Lord of the Isles (Coronet Books)

Lord of the Isles (Coronet Books) Read Free Page B

Book: Lord of the Isles (Coronet Books) Read Free
Author: Nigel Tranter
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where the Vikings were.
    He decided to chance it. He ordered a silent descent of the hill.
    Silence was only approximate, but they reached the river at length where it began to shallow to salt-water. There they picked their way across without too much difficulty, if with muttered cursing at the slippery stones underfoot and the chill of the water. Leaving the company there in Saor MacNeil’s charge, Somerled went onward, southwards, alone, following the river-bank, carefully.
    It was further to the estuary than he had calculated. Then he stumbled over the stakes of salmon-nets, stubbing his toes. These stakes were not old, with netting still attached; so at least it looked as though the fishermen were still active. He came to the first hut soon thereafter, but found it broken down and abandoned. There was another, however, close enough for him to hear a dog growling. He decided that it would be wiser not to creep and crawl. He made for the sound, walking normally—but he drew his dirk.
    At the black gape of an open doorway where a rough, old blanket hung, with the growling rising menacingly, he thumped on the hut timbers.
    “God save all here,” he called, quite strongly. “A friend calls—no Norseman. A friend, I say.”
    There was a pause and then some whispering. A distinctly hesitant voice spoke. “What friend? At this hour? Who speaks?”
    “A friend in your need perhaps. Quieten your dog.”
    The authority in that command may have had its effect, for another voice spoke, and the dog sank its rumbling a little. “What do you want?” this other said.
    “I mislike Norsemen and would know where they are, friend.”
    “You will have no difficulty in finding Norsemen, to my sorrow! They are everywhere.”
    “Yet—you sell them your salmon?”
    “They
take
our salmon, God’s curse on them!”
    “Good! Then you will help me teach them to pay! Where are they, these robbers of honest Scots? The nearest?”
    “Who are you, who comes in the night?”
    “My name is Somerled. Somerled MacGillebride MacGilladamnan MacFergus. Is that sufficient for you?”
    “MacGillebride? And MacFergus? Not, not . . .?”
    “But, yes. Son of Gillebride himself, rightful lord here. Rightful lord of all Argyll.”
    There was silence then as his unseen hearers, simple men, digested that. Then two of them materialised out of the gloom.
    “Where, then?” Somerled insisted.
    “Not far, lord,” the more vocal of the pair said. “A half-mile, no more. There is a lesser river comes in from the east—the Ranich. A bit of a bay is formed. They are there, at Achranich.”
    “This side of the river, or that?”
    “The far side, lord. But it is not deep. What do you intend?”
    “Slaughter!” he answered simply.
    “Ha! You, you have men?”
    “Some two hundred. Enough? How many of the Norse?”
    “Twice that. Or there were. They come and go.”
    “Fair enough odds, given surprise. Will you guide us?”
    “Surely. When?”
    “Now. Before daylight. Or when I have fetched my people. Wait for me.”
    Somerled hastened back, to bring his company along, the Irish all eagerness now that they scented action. The fishermen were ready, elderly men, their lurcher dog tied up. They carried their clubs for stunning the salmon—which was encouraging.
    Skirting the mud, shingle and seaweed of the loch-head strand, they moved round to the eastern shore. Presently they came to the second river-mouth, smaller but productive of a little bay at an angle to the loch, hidden. And therein they could just make out the dark shapes of the beached longships, four or five of them so far as they could discern.
    “Are these guarded? And where is their camp?” Somerled asked.
    “They encamp just across the river. Beyond the trees—you can just see the trees, there. As to the ships, I know not.”
    The other fisherman spoke. “I cannot think that they will guard their ships. Not now. They are so sure of themselves, Satan burn them! Men may sleep aboard

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